Pages

Thursday, 24 June 2010

MUMBAI RAINS

Now that the monsoons are here in Mumbai again, I keep thinking that there is no other season or weather that can fill one with as deep and different emotions as the rains. There is a little something in these for everyone.

Hindi movies have always used Saawan or rains for varied purposes. The most common is the longing that the village belle feels for her lover who has gone to pardes (out station) and has not returned even when the romantic season is here. Taste this: “Saawan ke jhule pade hain, tum chale aayo (Swings are out on the trees during rains; come to me, my love”; or “Saawan ke din aaye, beeti yaadein laye..(Rainy days arrived again; bringing with them lost memories”.

As far as titillation is concerned, there is nothing like rain to wet the saree of the heroine and give alluring glimpses of her sumptuous assets. The sensuousness of a Bollywood actress is often measured against the scale of her revealing herself whilst doing the rain dance. The heroine sings that her heart is going “dhak dhak” but actually that is the effect of the song and the dance on the audience.

Drops of rainwater falling over a pond and causing small ripples are an enchanting sight. And if one is to watch these whilst listening to the crickets and the plonk plonk of the drops, one would be filled with an overwhelming desire to be out walking in the drizzle. A boat in the lake in soft drizzle is another picturesque sight.

In a city like Mumbai or for that matter any Indian city facing perpetual water shortages, rains signify the abundance of this scarce commodity. Many people just walk in the rain to have a bath they had promised themselves long back. Many leave buckets and pans in the open to fill these up as never before.

Rainy season is a favourite for unplanned holidays or breaks from work. It is because Mumbai’s transportation system comes to a halt with anything but light rains. Schools and colleges are closed and offices are forced to let off their staff either early or for the days when it rains heavily. Walking on the roads is the most dangerous exercise one can indulge in. As you gingerly find your way on the flooded roads and you only manage to find your foot in the pothole you have luck on your side; you manage to return home with minor injuries. However, if your foot finds an open manhole (such manholes are often left open by the municipality to add to the adventure of being in Mumbai) you are instantly one with God.

Rains are also a good excuse for not doing anything or for postponing things. After you have chosen your furniture at the neighbourly shop and paid the advance and you await delivery, the rains break out. You are left high and dry, nay, low and wet. “Let the rains get over”, your friendly shopkeeper informs you, “and I will make sure your sofa set is delivered promptly”.

Rains in Mumbai also result in essential cleanliness of our squalid surroundings or at least some of the muck is hidden in the waters. The perpetual dust settles down. Since we have this compelling urge to litter, rains instantly carry our wrong-doings away from us. Since a large number of Mumbaiites are used to urinating, spitting and defecating in public places, rains promptly absolve us of the guilt of our irresponsible conduct. In this way we can continue to blame the authorities for not making our areas hygienic and mosquito free whilst assuring ourselves unrestricted use of the freedom we won so dearly.

All other seasons you face on your own but there is great togetherness in the rains. Don’t believe me? Well, try being the only person who carries an umbrella when it starts pouring and see how many people will engage you in close conversation under your umbrella. You suffer together waiting for the BEST (named so that you won’t call them WORST) buses to arrive, shifting from one end of the bus stop to the other as the rain changes direction with the breeze. A kind of kinship is cemented that you had never dreamt of. In one of the Mumbai ads, a man instantly marries his son off to a girl whose father was kind enough to provide him shelter in pouring rain.

And then there is family-togetherness. Rains are the best season for the lady of the house to be making and serving maalpuras, pakodas and other fried stuff whilst the rest of the family watches TV in knee deep water. No guests are expected during this weather and you can have all the goodies to yourself. Conversely, you can avoid going to grouchy friends by the handy excuse of rains, “ All of us were ready to come and be with you for the bhajan-kirtan (hymn singing) and then it started raining”.

Rains are thanked profusely by our local milkman; in other weathers he has to depend upon the unreliable municipal water to make his fifty litres into eighty, but, during rains he does not have to do much to increase his earnings. Many Mumbai families stash the raddi (old newspapers and magazines) during other seasons and sell these during the monsoons when they absorb moisture and their weight increases.

Rains are loved by the Mumbai media ever starved to break news. During other seasons there is nothing much to report. But, during rains the media can forever indulge in such populist topics as trashing authorities for being insensitive to people’s basic needs.

Our dog Roger loves the Mumbai rains. The duration of his walks increases and he just loves to wade through pools formed on the walkway. If he could write he would write to the Mayor thanking him for having such pools everywhere. The Mumbai media would hate him for doggedly taking on their watch-dog role.

With all this, there is nothing like Mumbai rains. If you have stood under the shelter of a tree with a paper cone holding singdana (roasted peanuts) or bhutta (corn roasted on coal), you are bound to break into song, “Ai dil hai mushkil jeena yahan; Yeh hai Bombay, yeh hai Bombay meri jaan (O’ my heart, it is so difficult to live here; it is Bombay, my love)”.

Labels

Search This Blog

Holding the Mirror

I have done a long stint in the Indian Navy that lasted for nearly thirty seven years; I rose as far as my somewhat rebellious and irreverant nature allowed me to. On retirement, the first thing that occured to me, and those around me, was that I Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (you will find an article with this title in this blog) and hadn't lost all my noodles and hence thought of my blog This 'n That.

I detest treading the beaten track. This blog offers me to air 'another way' of looking at things. The idea is not just to entertain but also to bring about a change.

Impudent or otherwise, I have never been insousciant and I am always concerned about the betterment of community, nation and the world. I hope the visitors of this blog would be able to discern it.

Previews

Now that our Raksha Mantri (Defence Minister), Shri AK Antony, has, like all politicians before him and probably after him, shown aversion to talk to his service chiefs we need to examine why is it so. Even our bureaucrats are used to putting the uniformed personnel in their place. We have reached a situation in our country when the collective neglect, indifference and aversion of the government, administrative and police towards the armed forces has made this honourable profession one of the least attractive of all professions in India for the youth of the country. (Read more in 'Admiral and Mantri Ji' under the section 'In Lighter Vein')_____

I believe that it is not just 'we are what we think'; but, also, the universe is what we think it is. Surprised? Hogwash? We often refer to it as 'magic' or 'supernatural' what we cannot understand. Those who can let their imagination take wing can 'see' and 'hear' things better than others; something that we have called ESP (Extra Sensory Perception). So, in order to carry forward this argument, what if the saints and spiritual leaders before us had discovered that senses can get us only so far and no more; and that going beyond the senses may be the way to go. That is, the expression "are you out of your senses" may not descibe you as an idiot but as a great intellectual? (Read more in 'Being Non-Sensical May Be Far Sighted' under 'Philosophy' section)_______

Navy is a true international service; it is because most often than not it operates beyond 12 nautical miles of the coast and hence in international waters called the high seas. Our counterparts from the Army and the Air Force rarely leave the country whereas we do it on an everyday basis; in almost every sailing we leave the territorial limits of the country. (Read more in 'Foreign Jaunts' under 'Navy - Nostalgia')______

We don't have to go as far back as my grandparents times; if Valentine Day had to become popular during my dad's times, how would it have been? My dad died of an accident when he was just 56, one year younger than I am now. During his days, except for in movies, couples never publicly expressed love for each other. It would be indirectly hinted rather than 'in-your-face' proclamation. There were no Valentine Day cards or other accessories. (Read more in 'If Dad and Mom Had to Celebrate Valentine Day' in 'Life is like that')______

She loved him. He loved her. There was a thick white line between their ends of the court. The match started.

First, she held her breath, extended her arm and muttering ""Love, love, love.." went charging into his side of the court. If only she could touch him and return across the thick white line. (Read more in 'Love and Fencing' under 'Stories')______

They finally found him not in a cave in a mountain but in a huge mansion in Abbottabad, a few hundred metres away from Pak Military Academy. I was reminded of this scene in Mel Brooks' Silent Movie in which they are looking for Burt Reynold's house whilst standing in front of a huge mansion with a large sign atop the house with his name on it that even the blind would have had difficulty in missing. (Read more in 'Osama, Obama, O Mama' under Opinions)_____

South Bombay prided itself in having the finest of the theatres patronised by decent crowds; the type who would be aware as well as well mannered: Regal and Strand in Colaba, Eros at Church Gate, Metro at Dhobi Talao, New Empire, Liberty and Sterling and later New Excelsior near Flora Fountain. There was Akaashvaani near LIC Building and one could watch good repertoire of movies there devoted to a theme. (Read more in 'My Young Days of Watching Movies in South Bombay' under Music and Cinema)

________

Sometimes I feel life is blaséAn alluring mirage that I chase.Sounds of fun and laughter areLike gunshotsPiercing through my heart. (Read more in 'If Only' under Poems and Limericks)

_______

How we admire the wisdom of those who come to us for advice! Indeed, some people are convinced that rendering advice is a fundamental right at par with such other rights as Right to Speech, Right to Religion, and Right to Property...(Read more in 'One Good Advice Deserves Another' under 'Humour')_________

Recently, when we watched the movie ‘3 Idiots’, we were entranced by the song ‘All Is Well’...(Read more in 'All Is Not Well' under 'Opinions')_________

The other day, a really dear friend came home to share the evening meal. The conversation drifted to the propensity of the senior hierarchy of the Navy to get entangled in trivial matters...(read more in 'During Our Days' under 'Navy - No One Asked Me But...')_________

No, this is not the end of radio communications; Roger is the name of our Labrador retriever. Like any retriever he is happiest when he is out...(Read more in 'Roger Out' under 'Humour')